Chapter 36
Chapter
Thirty-Six
DOMINIC
S imona is boneless in my arms. Scenting the air with her emotions while struggling to find her voice. She’s also blissing out in the most peaceful space I’ve seen her in since I met her.
“She’s good.” Hendrix whispers as he guides us out of the lift to follow Ryder who is strutting his way through our humble abode as if he was about to perform in a concert.
Hendrix keeps me balanced and stops me from telling Ryder to tone it down. Reiterating to me that our mate is fine/safe helps me control my own mood. And once again confirms the intimate connection he and I share.
The lift door shuts behind us, and since we’re as secure as we will ever be, I let her down to her feet. My nerves are shot, and my designation is blurring my mind. It’s a natural Alpha obsession and instinctual response to hold her and never let her go. I refuse to hold her back because my needs outweigh hers. They don’t and never will.
Clearly, I’ll be telling and showing her very soon what she does to me but for now, I find a place to watch. Just like Ryder and Hendrix. What Simona thinks of our home has become one of the most important and measurable factors of our pack’s success. Building this home, and a stable financial future is what we’ve done as a pack, but it has always been done with the intention of providing everything we could for our Omega.
The first couple of steps she takes, she’s still blitzed out, riding her high. Her eyes are sparkling as they dance around the room, but then it’s as if something pulls the plug on our sweet mate’s emotions, and she starts to wither.
It’s heartbreaking to watch her go from such a high, to starting to flatline in front of us. Clearly someone has been force feeding her fucking lies, and it isn’t hard to jump and blame those who should have been reinforcing what an incredible woman she is. Her eyes start to stay more downcast than up. Her scent flickers like a blinkering light bulb as something from her past digs into her happiness.
I move to be with her, but Hendrix beats me, cupping his hands around the gorgeous curve of her still naked ass cheeks.
“What do you think of our home, Simona? Ours meaning yours, mine, Ryder and Dominic’s? A forever place where the four of us will live out the rest of the days. Well, a homebase because we have the whole world waiting for us.” Hendrix’s touches are intentionally sexual. And in typical Hen fashion they are displays of his formidable power: a reminder in a way of how hard he loves and how strong he defends.
I suspect she’ll need reminding most days, but by god what a fucking honour being the pack graced with her as our mate.
“Would you like something more comfortable to slip into while we explore?” Hen asks, dipping down lower to rub himself over her ass, and feel her up.
Her head falls forward, a smile returning to her face .
“Actually, I would,” she says, leaning back against him, rubbing her head over him. “I want Rye’s shirt.”
Hendrix laughs. Low. Dirty. And if I heard it in a dark room, I’d be getting ready to be railed into next week. He steps back and slaps her ass before suddenly appearing in front of her helping her dress in Rye’s navy-blue dress shirt. He’s all swaying hips, and air thrusting making her giggle with hearts in her eyes.
“Fucking hell, Hen’s in fine form tonight.” Ryder says, as he passes a glass of red wine. Before I can argue this might not be the right time, he flicks the stereo on and dims the main lights so the skyline becomes the light source, and the room’s focus.
There’s still ample light to see our home, but it feels more intimate and sets the mood perfectly. Ryder drops his glass on a small table next to us, and runs a hand along my shoulder, and up my neck before hooking me down to his level. His mouth is on mine, and he tastes insane. Honey hints the stronger, more intense flavour which is Simona and her tasty release. Her orgasm lingers everywhere, on his mouth, his tongue. My knot aches in time with the way he teases me.
I pull him nearer, chasing the relief he offers. I can feel Hendrix guiding her, and I go to stop until the hitch of her breathing makes a space for him to talk.
“See that, Simona? How incredible these two look together? Now if I was to put you in the middle of them, I’d die a happy man. How’s your heat, sweetheart?”
“Fine,” she grunts back impatiently, and I risk a look to catch her pushing Hendrix aside so she can see both Ryder and me better.
Hendrix’s smile brightens the room, and he guides her to a chair next to us giving her a front row seat. He pulls her on top of him, as he says, “You ask nicely and Dom will show you how good Ryder deepthroats. ”
She whimpers and it’s like a starter’s gun.
Ryder groans into my mouth, or maybe it’s me making the noise in his. We fumble like teenagers in our haste to undress.
Ryder beats me to it, wrapping his hand around my cock and squeezing hard. The relief is double edged, highlighting how wound up I am and how keen I am for her to be okay with this.
I put my hand around his, stopping him and looking at her. Simona’s in Ryder’s shirt, it’s unbuttoned bar one above the valley of her breasts. Her eyes are black and she’s swaying softly side to side with Hendrix’s hands on her waist, holding her up by the looks.
“Tell us, sweetheart. Tell us what you want,” Hendrix insists, his voice barely above a whisper but his own bubbling desires, and anticipation, is as clear as hers.
She shuts her eyes, and I think we’ve lost her to the ghosts haunting her mind but when her eyes open, slowly, seductively too, I see our future being reshaped.
“I think perhaps I want to see this nest you’ve all made me. Then I want to watch the three of you together before I work out whether I’ll join you. Which is something I want. Whether it happens or not remains to be seen, but that’s what I want.”
Hendrix praises in her ear, and I think he’s going to lift her up, but he snakes his arm around her middle and settles back in the chair, taking her with him.
“Sounds so good, doesn’t it, sweetheart. And we will do everything in our power to make whatever you want happen. But there is something that needs to happen first.”
“Really?” She gasps, twisting around on his lap. “What?”
“I remember us having a discussion back at Unity about you winding me up in a handful of seconds.”
She blazes red as a rush of arousal races across her skin. She remembers, and she wants whatever it is Hendrix is alluding to.
“We also need to sort out the time you returned my money, my credit card, and phone, leaving you in a very vulnerable state.”
“I was angry with you,” she confesses, head held high.
“Rightfully so. But next time you are angry with me, you don’t put yourself in danger like that. You spend my money to show me how frustrated I made you. You spend it frivolously, on anything you want, to prove to me how right you were. You do whatever necessary, but you do not ever put yourself in a situation where you don’t have money or a means of communication.”
She gulps audibly, whimpering and undulating on his lap.
“I promised you’d get every part of me. And this is me keeping my promise to you. Trust me, darling?”
“I’ve already told you I do.”
“I know, but I will always ask you. Especially when I’m about to rosy your ass since you were such a bad girl.”
Ryder directs my hand to his cock before he starts slowly running his hand up and down my length, completely turned on and half desperate at Hendrix getting dominant with our Omega.
She nearly bounces out of his lap in her eagerness and probably would if it weren’t for his arms binding around her still.
“If you’re a good girl, you get your nest and your Alphas as soon as I’m finished with you,” he growls before reaching forward and clamping his teeth at the same place I’ve seen him mark her before.
She squeaks at the love nip and leaks her scent like a perfume counter.
“Up you get.” Hendrix barks. It’s so fucking seductive, I nearly take a step towards him in response. It’s so fucking him too, the way he reclines back into the chair. I expect her to shoot up to her feet, and she does, but she rolls around first and then fakes a fumble so her hand ends up in his lap, wrapped around his length. Her mouth is moving like she’s saying something to him, and Hendrix doesn’t react at all. Except for the dilation of his eyes.
“She’s an angel, isn’t she?” Ryder asks as his hand comes to a stop.
I’m with him, though I can barely function watching her as she steps into her own. There’s no question in my mind of how far Simona is going to go in her recovery.
“You just earned yourself another one, sweetheart. I want a safe word from you, one that we use from now on. You use it in any fashion, and we stop whatever we are doing. No questions asked.”
She clears her throat before we all hear her sweet voice. “Mafia.” The clarity and speed at which she answers also rings with decisiveness so we all know she’s not simply appeasing him, she’s into the powerplay Hen is establishing with her.
I wish I could see her face, but she has her back to us. I get to see Hendrix’s thoughts and he has to slam his eyes shut and tip his head back, blowing out a slow steady breath to control himself.
Intentionally she steps out of his space, stands with her hands behind her back, her feet together and her head lowered. Beautiful submission. Given. Not taken. Diametrically opposed to forced submission. The difference is in her scent and her blossoming confidence.
Hen’s eyes open and he moves himself into position. Once he is where he wants, he clicks his fingers to draw her attention before he points to where she’s meant to go.
It’s like watching art, the way she moves. And the way he responds—both physically and in his Alpha presence. Simona flows across his lap until her pert ass is under his hand. Her breathing is choppy, her scent so telling she’s very much into everything happening.
The smile on her face has me grabbing my phone so I can capture how radiant she is.
And then it drops from my hands when she turns, flutters her eyelashes at him, and softly speaks. “Sorry, sir.”
Her sass reaches inside my primal side. I’m about to push Ryder to the floor and driving deep inside after those two words. I nearly fucking do when Hendrix’s hand rises up and flashes down to slap across the peachy globe of her backside.
Ryder and I, hell, even Hendrix, freeze up, just in case she fooled herself into believing she was ready. Even before the echo of his smack fades, she’s crying softly for more.
Hendrix’s hand rubs small circles over the splash of pink on her skin before he strikes. Then again. One final time before he’s rubbing his palm against the pretty glow.
“Do you remember whose you are yet, sweetheart?”
“Yes.”
“Whose, Simona? Let me hear who.”
“You. And them. I’m yours.”
“Correct. You are.”
He smiles down at her—not that she’d see, she’s drifting in a place where only the two of them exist. But the way Hendrix does look at her only confirms how true her words are. She is very much ours, in every sense of the word.
His hand moves slowly, and he keeps praising her as his good girl while his fingers dip between her thighs. He pulls them out to show us. “Look at this mess, sweetheart. I couldn’t have asked for a better mate.” He buries his fingers in her pussy, and she turns to jelly on his lap with each thrust of his hand.
I think she’s going to ride his hand, but she raises her head. With Hendrix’s fingers still inside her body, she stands and rolls her shoulders back. Her eyes stay down low, but it’s not from yesterday’s memories, it’s from giving Hendrix another sample of her absolute submission.
“She’s going to fucking decimate us before rewriting the Alpha definition of control,” Ryder murmurs quickly before stepping away. “Dominic, you might have to lead the way. Hen’s busy lending a hand to our Omega.”
With her eyes stuck on the floor, her mouth tips up into a soft smile which is like holding a microphone to my ear; she’s very happy.
Simona raises her hand slowly, lifting her finger to catch our attention. It isn’t necessary. We freeze, holding still and silent as we wait for her. Her eyes rise up, and when she finds both of us, her eyes flutter once more. She exhales a long, steady breath before gripping Hen’s wrist and standing up onto her tippy toes.
There’s a pinch of pain that mars her pretty face; she grits her teeth, talking breathlessly. “Heat spasms are not fun. Being here with you is the stuff that makes me believe in fairytales. Please don’t let me forget any of this. Any of it.”